


Questionable Practices

by pagan



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Mystery, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-20
Updated: 2013-07-20
Packaged: 2017-12-20 18:55:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/890684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pagan/pseuds/pagan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione is tasked with investigating what seems to be a case of money laundering involving one of Draco Malfoy's companies. In the course of her investigations, she finds herself attracted to both Draco and his young assistant, Teddy Lupin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Origins

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Notes: In the books, JKR never explained the full abilities of a metamorphmagus. We were told they had the ability to change their appearance and shape at will, though JKR remained silent as to whether they could change their voices as well (I recall the scene in OoTP where Tonks, disguised as an old woman, greeted Harry. However, it was never mentioned if she did so in her own voice or someone else's). I have thus taken the liberty to somewhat enhance Teddy's metamorphmagus abilities to allow him the capability of changing his voice, as well as his appearance. Teddy's house affiliation whilst at Hogwarts was also never confirmed; I've taken the liberty of making young Mister Lupin a Slytherin.
> 
> Disclaimer: Only the plot is mine
> 
> Beta: Immortal Phoenix

The funds travelled through a myriad of accounts in order to get clean: from its illegal origins, it was placed in the monetary system when a man - brown hair, medium height and possessing a singularly nondescript countenance - approached a small, little-known brokerage firm in London, met with one of its brokers, and opened a trading account on behalf of his company.

 

Within the day, money in the form of cash was deposited into the account; shares in several FTSE companies were purchased within the space of a week.

 

It was the only trading done on the account.

 

In the succeeding three months, there were monies wired into the account from third parties in the Bahamas or the Cayman Islands. Monies were also wired out to companies in offshore jurisdictions like Hong Kong or Dubai.

 

The broker handling the account thought nothing of it; after all, Mr. Brown - the authorised officer for his client - had mentioned that the company may want to keep the shares for some time before re-selling it and had mentioned that certain transactions may be taking place in the account. It must also be noted that at that point in time, the broker was not giving his whole attention to his work; on the day the account was opened, his wife had just announced she was pregnant with child number two. Fortuitously, his mistress had, just the day before, told him the exact same thing, though for her, it was child number one.

 

It was only when the broker took a leave of absence to sort out his personal life that his replacement - a young man named Pearson - noticed the movement in the account and red-flagged it to his superiors. One transaction had caught his eye:  funds were wired to what seemed to be an account in a London financial institution, but instead of using a sort code for domestic wire transfers, a SWIFT code (usually used for international transfers) was used instead.

 

And the strangest thing was that the SWIFT code showed clearly that the money was sent to a " _Gringotts_ " in an area in London Pearson had never even heard of.

 

*

 

The inter-office memo zoomed around corners and did little swoops and dives to avoid hitting any number of people walking along the corridor that led to its final destination. It dipped frantically to avoid an elderly witch with a beehive hairdo carrying a large stack of folders and headed straight for the last office at the end of the corridor. Its sender had infused the memo with such urgency that upon reaching its intended recipient, the memo literally came to a screeching halt.

 

Hermione Granger looked up almost absent-mindedly from the stack of papers on her desk, quill in hand, and a pair of makeshift hairclips - cunningly transfigured from the paperclips on her desk - holding her hair away from her face. She reached up and plucked the quivering memo from the air above her, sighing tiredly as she did so.

 

Flipping open the memo, she smoothed it out on her desk and started to read. She read through it three times before standing up and calling out for both her secretary and her assistant. A set of terse instructions were given to the secretary and a slightly more detailed version to the young man who was her assistant, and then Hermione swept down the corridor towards the office of the Minister for Magic.

 

*

 

The antechamber leading to the Minister's office was manned by a stern-looking witch in her forties. Hermione nodded to her as she walked straight to the door of the Minister's room, pausing only to say, "He's expecting me, Egberta," before she swung open the door, ignoring the older witch's protests.

 

Hermione stepped into the Minister's room and quickly closed the door on Egberta's indignant face.  She walked towards the chair set in front of the big oak desk behind which Minister Shacklebolt was seated, a frown on his dark face, staring at the papers on his desk. Waving the memo still clutched in her hand, Hermione asked, "Is this reliable?"

 

The Minister nodded. He pushed the stack of papers he had been staring at for the past two hours towards Hermione. "These were sent across by the Muggle Prime Minister's office. The FSA" - he looked at Hermione enquiringly; being Muggle-born, she understood the acronym - "seems to believe that Gringotts is very much involved in this money washing business."

 

"Money laundering," Hermione automatically corrected Kingsley as she glanced at the papers. "I'll need time to go over them." She flipped through the first few sheets and mentally noted the movement of the funds: the amounts transferred in each transaction were relatively small, all just below the reporting threshold, though that one transfer to the account in Gringotts was a rather substantial amount.

 

Kingsley grunted and shifted in his chair. "No doubt you will." He paused, then said, "I've spoken to the goblins; the account in question belongs to one of Malfoy's subsidiaries." He gave Hermione a look that spoke of his unease at that particular development.

 

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "Surely you don't think -"

 

"I don't know what to think." Kingsley paused, pushing the tip of one finger against his left temple. "Yet." He shifted in his chair again, nodding towards the stack in her hand. "I need you to look into this. Whatever resources you need, let me know. I've got the Muggles breathing down my neck, insisting I let one of their officers from the FSA investigate Gringotts' involvement." He left unspoken the dangers of letting a Muggle into their world. "I've assured the Muggle Prime Minister that we've nothing to do with washing Muggles' ill-gotten gains, but if we are involved, I want to know."

 

Hermione stopped herself from correcting the Minister once again.

 

*

 

Hermione tapped her fingers impatiently against her desk as she waited for her two o'clock appointment to present himself at her door. A quick glance at her watch showed it to be ten minutes past two.

 

It was just like him to keep her waiting, she grumbled to herself.

 

It had taken her a week to go through each transaction listed in the statements provided by the brokerage firm and to compare it against the list of accounts the FSA had recorded as either the sender or recipient of the sums. Most of the accountholders were shell companies according to the FSA report, and so far, the FSA had been unsuccessful in tracing the beneficial owners of those accounts.

 

Hermione knew that Malfoy Investments had a presence - at least through its subsidiaries - in Dubai and Hong Kong, and that fact troubled her. It seemed to somehow underscore the impression that Malfoy was somehow involved.

 

A sharp knock on her door broke her reverie and Hermione glanced up as her secretary ushered in her two o'clock appointment.

 

Draco Malfoy had, in the last fifteen or so years after the war, turned into an extremely successful businessman. It showed in the way he dressed - expensive, well-cut suits that was surely the influence of his time spent on his investments in the Muggle business world - and most obviously in the way he carried himself, with an air of unshakable confidence and arrogance.

 

He nodded his greeting to the tired-looking woman he had purposely kept waiting. "To what do I owe this pleasure, Miss Granger?" he asked, taking in with one glance the cramped interior that was the office of Hermione Granger, newly appointed head of the Muggle Liaison Office.

 

He sniffed disdainfully. It was either the Ministry still didn't think very much of the department, what with its shabby furnishings and well-worn carpet, or Hermione Granger herself couldn't be bothered to change the décor after taking over.

 

He decided it was probably the latter; she looked as tired and shabby as her office. It had come as a surprise when he'd found out she had requested a meeting with Draco Malfoy, and at her office, no less. He was curious as to why. Malfoy Industries employed several Muggle-borns to run their operations in the Muggle world; there was, in his opinion, nothing that had popped up recently requiring any intervention by the Muggle Liaison Office.

 

Hermione nodded at Malfoy. "Please take a seat, Mr. Malfoy." She directed her gaze to her secretary. "You may leave us, Dorcas. Thank you." As Dorcas opened her mouth and signalled to Hermione to offer her visitor a drink, Hermione said firmly, "No, I don't believe we will need any refreshments. It will be a short meeting."

 

She met Malfoy's raised eyebrows with a face of polite solicitousness. "You sound as if you have a cold, Mister Malfoy. I wouldn't wish to unduly prolong our meeting if you're feeling under the weather."

 

She waved her hand, clearly dismissing any retort he might have made and continued politely, "Mister Malfoy, we have a delicate situation at hand, one that I felt would be best communicated to you personally."

 

She stared at him; he nodded at her to continue. "The Muggle regulators have informed us of a case of money laundering involving Gringotts."

 

A flicker of surprise showed on his face. Noting that reaction, she went on. "The Ministry is aware that you have investments in the Muggle world. As it is, I am quite certain you know what money laundering is and the consequences -"

 

"Miss Granger," he interrupted, "spare me whatever long-winded explanation you were going to embark on."

 

She scowled.

 

"What is the point of me being here?"

 

She narrowed her eyes at him. "The account in question belongs to one of your companies."

 

He sat back in his chair, his face inscrutable. "Ah, I see. Are you implying that _I_ am involved in this money laundering?"

 

"I am not implying anything. I, or shall I say, the Ministry would like your cooperation in our investigations on the matter. As I have stressed before, this is a delicate situation -"

 

He chuckled softly, interrupting her. "Meaning you don't want it known that Gringotts is actually vulnerable." He leaned forward. "It must be galling for the goblins to realise that despite their dungeons and all manner of magical safeguards, they're not impervious to good, old-fashioned ways the criminals use to launder money through their institution. Or did the Muggle regulators, as I believe you said, threaten to investigate Gringotts?" He stared at her intently before leaning back.

 

His jab was too close to home. Hermione quickly retorted, "I would think, Mister Malfoy, it is to your benefit that word of such an investigation into your companies do not reach public ears." She sniffed disdainfully for good measure.  "If you do not wish to cooperate, we will have to bring this matter officially to the -"

 

Malfoy raised his hand imperiously, silencing her.  His features hardened. "It seems you are not above threatening me, Miss Granger."

 

Hermione resisted giving a loud snort. "Threatening?" she asked politely, almost curiously. "I wouldn't presume to do so, Mister Malfoy. You may treat it as a factual statement. If you do not wish to cooperate by letting this very office investigate your organisation, its accounts and your employees, I will have no choice but to involve other departments."

 

He narrowed his eyes at her, the grey orbs looking very much akin to granite. "I want a list of what it is you specifically require, Miss Granger. And who will be in charge of the investigations."

 

"That will be me," she said grimly.

 

He arched his eyebrows and stood up. "I believe this meeting is over, then. I expect to see you next week with your list, Miss Granger. My office; you may contact my assistant to set up an appointment."

 

He walked out.

 

*

 

"So," Draco Malfoy said as he leaned back in his chair, "what did Granger want?"

 

Draco stared patiently at the man seated across from him - a man with a face identical to his - until the man in question shuddered and his face contorted - the nose retreating in size, the chin taking on a less prominent point at its tip - and he was once again faced with the youthful good looks of Teddy Lupin.

 

His young cousin was an asset to him in many ways; Teddy was extremely intelligent and possessed a very sharp mind. He was always eager to learn, and under Draco's tutelage over the past five months, had become, if not exactly like Draco, a close enough replica. He lacked the subtle sense of ruthlessness that seemed to cloak Draco, and was more outgoing and charming than his mentor. But in terms of cunning and manipulation, Teddy was an apt pupil.

 

And it was a definite advantage that Teddy was a Metamorphmagus with skills that even surprised Draco: the boy - young man, he corrected himself - had the amazing ability to change the sound of his voice to fit his altered looks, though it took intense concentration on his part. Draco did not know of any other metamorphmagus with that exceptional ability.

 

Teddy threw Draco a quick grin as he settled himself comfortably in his seat, cleared his throat and recounted his meeting with Hermione Granger.

 

At the end of it, Teddy sighed, stood up and stretched, trying to work the kinks out of his body. He always felt as if his muscles needed a good stretch after spending a few hours in a shape not originally his. He cleared his throat again; it always felt dry and scratchy after hours spent speaking in another's voice, but he knew Draco would have wanted a report as soon as he had reached the office.

 

He walked to the sideboard where Draco kept the drinks, alcoholic or otherwise, and poured himself a glass of water. He glanced at Draco as he drank; Draco had kept silent throughout the entire time he repeated his conversation with Hermione Granger. There was no change in his features as he had listened intently to Teddy, not even the slightest twitch of his lips - always quick to sneer at something he did not like - to indicate he felt anything at the impending investigation into his companies by the Ministry. He was extremely curious as to the state of Draco's mind at this point in time.

 

Draco was aware of Teddy staring at him as he ran through what the younger man had told him. The Ministry wanted to investigate the fact that someone was using his company to launder money. Disbelief was his first emotion, followed closely by anger, though he made certain to keep his face expressionless. It would not do to let Teddy read his emotions too well. Whilst he trusted the younger man, it had also occurred to him that other than himself, the only people who had all-reaching access to the company's accounts and those of its subsidiaries was his Chief Financial Officer, and Teddy.


	2. Assumptions

Hermione fingered the Portkey Malfoy had sent over: a little glass figurine of a mermaid reclining on a rock. The craftsmanship was exquisite; each scale on the mermaid's tail delicately and individually shaped. It must have taken the glass-blower an inordinately long time to finish such a delicate job. It must have also cost Malfoy a pretty penny, she thought wryly.  The Portkey would activate in about two minutes, and would deposit her, according to the terse set of instructions that had accompanied it, in his office.

 

In the week that had followed her meeting with Malfoy at the Ministry, Hermione had ascertained from further reports sent over by the Muggles that the funds were suspected to have originated from illegal drug deals.

 

She sighed and ran over the meeting she'd had with the Minister regarding that new piece of information. Malfoy was arrogant, cunning and often downright rude, but the idea of him being involved with Muggle drug dealers hadn't sat well with her. It had taken some persuasive arguments from her, but Shacklebolt had also grudgingly admitted that it seemed unlikely Malfoy would jeopardise his standing within the wizarding business community after all he'd done to salvage the Malfoy name after the War. Almost every wizard knew he had investments in the Muggle business world; his company had almost always advertised that point to all and sundry within the magical community. Hermione had always thought it was media overkill, but she knew Malfoy had wanted to make it a point that he no longer believed in blood prejudice. It was not good for business in the new wizarding world.

 

No, it did not make sense at all for Malfoy to be involved in drugs, or money laundering for that matter. He was successful enough as it was. And it was undeniable that he had been on the straight and narrow for almost twenty years after the end of the last War.

 

*

 

"Miss Granger?" a well-modulated male voice asked as Hermione landed in the middle of what looked to be an office, though it was one she had never expected Draco Malfoy to be in possession of.

 

She'd always had the impression the man inhabited a room that would epitomise the slightly sinister aura he had always managed to exude, especially when crossed: dark wood panelling on the walls, a big polished oak desk, a sideboard or an alcohol cabinet somewhere made from that self-same oak, low lighting throughout the room and a table lamp on the desk.

 

Complete with a green lamp shade.

 

A room shrouded in cigar smoke and shadows.

 

She berated herself mentally; she had been watching too many reruns of _The_ _Godfather_ on the telly. Coupled with the reports from the FSA regarding drug dealers, she had allowed her mind to make - a hitherto unheard of act on her part - an assumption without any basis but pure speculation.

 

Draco Malfoy's office was the opposite of that. It looked light and airy, the walls a pale cream. She slowly took a look around. Behind her was the door to his office; a little further to its left stood a big Chinese porcelain floor vase. Knowing Malfoy, she suspected it to be an antique.

 

The furniture in the room carried a distinctly oriental feel with what looked like an apothecary chest set against one wall and an antique Chinese cabinet with mother of pearl inlay placed on the opposite wall. Both pieces were black, and matched the black leather L-shaped sofa surrounding a low, rectangular black lacquer coffee table with short cabriole legs and claw feet. A modern looking floor to ceiling bookshelf that was filled with books and periodicals stood next to the cabinet. It was also done in black lacquer.

 

There were two large paintings on opposite sides of the walls: one of what looked to be nine fish - carp, she believed - swimming amongst the lotus in the water set above the apothecary's chest;  the other depicting two dragons playing with a large, milky-white pearl was set above the Chinese cabinet.

 

Another door was set next to the apothecary's chest. Hermione suspected that it led to Malfoy's private toilet and/or bathroom.

 

The whole room however, was dominated by a floor to ceiling window that took up the entire wall across from the main door. In front of it was placed a big, black lacquer desk. Malfoy's desk, she surmised. The man himself, however, was not behind it.

 

"Miss Granger?" the well-modulated voice asked again, this time with a hint of amusement evident within its tones.

 

Hermione focussed, turned around and noticed the good-looking young man standing a little to the side of the door behind her. Her eyes widened. "Teddy Lupin?"

 

The young man grinned. "In the flesh."

 

"What are you doing here? Do you" - Hermione hesitated, unsure how it would sound, but pressed on - "work here?" She inwardly winced, realising the question came off rather rude.  Harry had not mentioned a thing to her about his god-son working for Malfoy. She made a mental note to ask Harry when she next saw him.

 

Teddy nodded, the grin turning into a wide smile as he noticed Hermione's sudden discomfort at her query. "I joined right after I left Hogwarts." He motioned Hermione towards the couch and followed behind her as she took the seat he indicated.

 

"Would you like anything to drink? Coffee? Tea? Water?" he offered.

 

"Tea, please; thank you."

 

He nodded and clapped his hands twice. There was a discreet _pop_ and a young house-elf appeared. Teddy smiled at the house-elf. "Tea, please, Dinky. A pot of Darjeeling" - he looked towards Hermione for confirmation; she nodded - "for Miss Granger, and a pot of Lapsang for Draco and me."

 

Dinky bowed and disappeared with another discreet _pop_.

 

"House-elf?" Hermione couldn't help herself.

 

Teddy smiled easily. "Harry's mentioned your campaign regarding house-elves. Ours are officially employed by the company and they're paid a salary. Draco insisted upon it once he took over."

 

Hermione nodded, though she was surprised by Malfoy's change in opinion regarding house-elves.

 

Teddy sat down next to her. "Draco's wrapping up another meeting that ran over; he'll be here soon."

 

Before Hermione could respond to that, or even ask Teddy what his role was in Malfoy's organisation, the main door opened and at almost the exact same time, Dinky reappeared with a large tray.

 

Tea had arrived, and so had Draco Malfoy.

 

*

 

Draco stared at Granger as he sat on the other leg of the couch. Seeing her beside Teddy - youthful, good-looking and as sharply dressed as Draco himself - she looked, as Teddy had described her from the earlier meeting, tired, older and unfortunately, dowdy. She wore no make-up, no Glamour charms as far as Draco could tell, and was dressed in a plain brown worsted wool suit that only emphasised the paleness of her features.

 

Her bushy mane was bundled up into what looked like a bun, though it more closely resembled a bird's nest gone awry, with tendrils of it escaping the numerous clips she'd employed to hold everything in place. Draco was surprised to notice she had not inadvertently left a quill or two in there, though with the state her hair was in, it might be possible; it was just not visible to the naked eye.

 

"Granger," he said curtly as Dinky prepared his tea. She frowned at his brusqueness but nodded in response.  He gave a slight nod to Teddy who stood up and quietly but efficiently cast a _Muffliato_ charm around them. Dinky bowed and disappeared with his customary discreetness.

 

"Now," Draco said as he lifted the tea cup from its saucer, "you will tell me what this is all about, Granger." He took a sip, savouring the musky but sweet, fruit-like flavour of his favourite brew. "And what exactly it is you and the Ministry are insisting upon? I believe you have been told to bring me a list of what you specifically require from us." He purposely let the tone of his voice harden as he continued. "I am not about to let you or the Ministry run roughshod over my employees and my organisation just because of _mere_ suspicion." He infused the word with distaste. "It seems to me an internal matter and I suggest you let us know what facts you have managed to collect thus far, so we can handle this from our end."

 

To say Hermione was irked by Malfoy's presumption that she would hand over _her_ investigation to him was putting it mildly. "I beg your pardon?" she asked icily.

 

She narrowed her eyes at Malfoy as he calmly took another sip from his cup. She resisted the urge to flick her wand and tip the cup over, so the hot tea would spill onto his smug face and drip down his pointy chin. Surely that ought to bring him down a peg or two.

 

"This is a Ministry investigation, Mister Malfoy. Unfortunately, it not only involves just your organisation, it involves banks and regulators in the Muggle world. That means involving the Ministry." She took great satisfaction in enunciating this: "It means involving _me_."

 

She could feel Teddy shift in his seat beside her as Malfoy stilled in his act of returning cup to saucer. Two seconds passed before Malfoy gently placed his tea cup onto its saucer and looked at her, displeasure clear in his features. The man always managed to exude a sense of something dangerous and slightly sinister when threatened or crossed.

 

And they had crossed swords several times over the years after the War: Malfoy expanding into the Muggle world had inevitably led him to the Muggle Liaison Office many a time.

 

It struck her then that this sense of danger, for want of a better word, was missing the last time they had met.

 

It was clearly evident _now_ in the way he stared at her.

 

She pressed on firmly. "I want a list of all subsidiaries and related companies in your organisation, a list of names of all employees together with their designation, and whether they have access to the company accounts. I especially want to know about those who are working in your Muggle subsidiaries, who they are, what they do. I want copies of all contracts entered into with Muggle suppliers, vendors, service providers, clients.  I also want full access to any other information I deem necessary, and I will have the unfettered right to interview any employee in the course of my investigations."

 

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "Granger, what you are suggesting is intrusive to say the least, and may very well disrupt operations in some of my companies.  I have said it before, you will not run roughshod over my employees, nor will you have the _unfettered right_ ," he said sarcastically, "to go poking your nose into my organisation's financials."

 

She opened her mouth to protest, but he cut right through. "No. You have no right to have access to those documents considered trade secrets or of a confidential nature which any disclosure of - whether inadvertent or otherwise - will have a negative impact on my organisation. You will be allowed access to that particular company's accounts and the list of its employees." He frowned at her. "Any interviewing of my employees will be carried out in my presence." He leaned forward and looked her directly in the eye. "Your investigation will be carried out from this office; no document is to leave these premises without my consent. Those are my terms. Take it or leave it, Granger."

 

By the end of his speech, Hermione could feel the heat in her cheeks. She was angry. "Your terms, Malfoy? Need I remind you -"

 

He waved his hand languidly. "I do not need you telling me what will happen, Granger. But I also know" - he smirked - "that you will have to go through my lawyers, both here and in the Muggle world, to even get a glimpse into my accounts, should you not agree to my proposal.  That's quite a bit of legal wrangling, even for you." The sneer dropped. "Now, do we have terms, or don't we?"

 

*

 

Hermione left Malfoy's office feeling that she had lost more than she had won, though her actual intention had only been to get access and information on that particular company's accounts and its employees. She was fairly certain that if she needed more information, Malfoy would capitulate, especially if he was given good reasons.

 

She was still unshaken in her belief that he had nothing to do with the money laundering. It just didn't fit his persona. The man was successful enough.

 

She had also left with a niggling sense of unease, an unformed thought at the back of her mind. There was something regarding Malfoy that had seemed a bit off, but like the words to a song that couldn't be fully recalled, she had to wait until it came to her before she could decide what it really was.

 

*

 

Draco looked at the account that had been the subject of everyone's concern. It was the account for _Prima Potions Limited_ , his potions brewery.

 

They had been doing quite well recently, what with the regular orders of the Elixir to Induce Euphoria coming in from the Moldovans. It was strange, how one person's unhappiness could actually lead to another's fortune. The Moldovans - known for being the unhappiest people in the world - in their need to create happiness, had actually led to an increase in his coffers.

 

And making money always made Draco Malfoy happy.


	3. Placement

Hermione frowned as she set aside the list of contracts belonging to _Prima Potions Limited_ and pushed away from the small metal table in the equally small room that had been designated as hers since morning.

 

She stood up and slowly stretched, trying to work the kinks out of her body. At almost thirty-seven, sitting too long in one position almost invariably caused stiff shoulders, a stiff neck and an ache in her lower back. Gone were the days when she could sit on practically any surface - in any position - and pore over books, documents and parchment for hours on end. Young and limber, her muscles had not felt a thing in her teenage years, or even when she was in her twenties. It was only after she'd turned thirty that the effect of years spent hunched over her research and work coupled with a sedentary lifestyle did she fully appreciate the term _a lower back ache_.

 

She glowered at the metal chair that came with the table. It was, in her opinion, an uncomfortable piece of furniture; it possessed an unrelentingly straight back and a hard, un-cushioned seat that wreaked havoc on her lower back muscles. She'd tried to Transfigure the chair into something more comfortable after one whole uncomfortable hour - an ergonomic chair with lumbar protection would have been bliss - but it had been impervious to any of her spells. Even a simple cushioning charm had been to no avail. It had hit her then that Malfoy must have put up some kind of ward to stop her from using magic while in the room. She suspected it was because he believed she might make copies of the documents in the room, or perhaps remove them without his knowledge. Or worse, doctor the papers.

 

This was underscored by the short meeting she'd had with Malfoy earlier in the morning; she had been tersely informed that he expected her to report to him every evening before she left the building, claiming he wanted updates on her investigation. After discovering the wards he'd placed in the room she'd been given -and the Anti-Apparition wards placed on the building-Hermione would swear it was to somehow ensure that she would not secrete some of his papers on her person prior to leaving.

 

The man was suspicious and frankly paranoid, and Hermione was insulted, to say the least, by his mistrust of a Ministry official, specifically _her_. However, she did grudgingly admit to herself that if she were in his shoes, she would have taken the same precautions.

 

She glanced around the room she'd been _graciously_ \- to quote Teddy, who, to his merit, had actually shown some embarrassment as he'd said it - allowed to use. Room, she thought to herself derisively. It was more like a filing cabinet that had been magically enlarged just enough to fit a table, a chair and a box of files. Oh, and one Hermione Granger.

 

The filing cabinet theory made sense, Hermione thought as she pressed her fingers to her neck, trying to massage the knots in her muscles. Her room was squeezed in between Malfoy's spacious office and what Teddy had informed her was _his_ little space in the building. Teddy's little space had to be at least five times bigger than her filing cabinet room, she thought wryly.

 

As she rolled her head upwards to alleviate the stiffness in her neck, she noticed that the lights directly placed above her table had started to flicker.

 

She suppressed a growl and gave in to a sigh instead. It would be just like Malfoy to have somehow planned for the lights to stop working, just to make her job more difficult. She threw back her shoulders and decided to get Teddy to fix the lights for her. Malfoy had insisted she only communicate with him as regards her investigation; a mere fixing of the lights, Hermione was sure, did not fall within that request.

 

Besides, she was keen to speak with Teddy, if only to assuage her curiosity as to why he was working for Malfoy.  She hadn't had the time to ask Harry as yet. Teddy's pleasant demeanour suggested that he would be easy to talk to. Perhaps Teddy could be persuaded to tell her more about Malfoy's organisation. After all, she knew a few stories about his parents that she was sure Andromeda Tonks had not been privy to.

 

And it didn't hurt that she had always found Teddy Lupin a charming boy - young man, she corrected herself.

 

Charming and very attractive: Teddy Lupin's features were a combination of his grandmother's dramatic good looks tempered by Remus Lupin's rather ordinary though pleasant ones. Yes, he was almost half her age, but that didn't mean she couldn't appreciate his very pleasing features.

 

No, it wasn't any hardship at all.

 

 

*

 

A quick series of knocks on his office door - as if the person on the other side were impatiently waiting to be let in - caused Teddy to look up from the list of meetings scheduled for Draco for the month.

 

"Enter," he called out impatiently. He'd been in a bad mood ever since Draco had effectively cut him out of the loop concerning the Ministry investigation. Whilst Teddy had been the one to show Hermione Granger to her room, Draco had insisted that all documents to be sent to Miss Granger come directly from him. As far as Teddy knew - _and it was not a lot, dammit!_ \- Draco had instructed Dinky to gather all files and documents related to Prima Potions and have them delivered to Draco directly. Even Silas Everton, the Managing Director of Prima Potions had been unable to stop Dinky from magically gathering up every single scrap of document relating to the company and surrendering it to Draco. Dinky was unswervingly loyal to Draco and Teddy knew it would be hopeless to try to pry even the smallest bit of information out of the house-elf.

 

Draco's secretary opened the door and walked in, disapproval clearly written on her narrow face as she handed Teddy a new list of matters. Teddy took a good look at Miss Wiggens as she gave a long-suffering sigh and sat down in the chair before his desk. She was almost as colourless as Miss Granger, with mousy brown hair cut in a sleek bob framing her pale face and wearing clothes that although slightly more stylish than Miss Granger's, was an equally boring colour. Teddy guessed her age to be closer to forty than thirty. The similarities with Miss Granger ended there; while Hermione Granger possessed what Teddy suspected to be a nicely curved body, Miss Wiggens was slender almost to the point of thinness.

 

Despite the tiredness evident on her face, Miss Wiggens sat ramrod straight in her chair. She was, as everyone knew, a frighteningly efficient secretary and worked tirelessly for Draco.

 

"We'll need to coordinate our schedules," she snapped.

 

As he held out his list for her to take, he smiled charmingly at her. Dinky may be a lost cause, but perhaps Miss Wiggens might know something. She handled quite a bit of Draco's filing and Teddy was quite certain some of the more important documents were kept by her in Draco's office.

 

Miss Wiggens seemed taken aback by his smile, but then relaxed a little when he asked if she wanted a cup of tea while they tried to make sense of Draco's hectic schedule. He could see the sudden slumping of her shoulders as she leaned back in the chair, presumably making herself more comfortable.

 

What Teddy did know by the end of the impromptu meeting with Miss Wiggens was that she held a deep admiration for Cousin Draco and that her birthday was coming up. These were information that he might be able to capitalise on.

 

He grinned wickedly as the redoubtable Miss Wiggens walked out of his office.

 

*

 

Hermione walked to Teddy's room only to find the door ajar and its occupant missing.  Feeling rather irritated, she decided she would have to either call Dinky or, failing that, insist on Malfoy himself fixing the lights for her. Just as she turned around to walk out, she bumped into something hard and warm. Caught off balance, she reached out and grabbed onto the nearest available thing: Draco Malfoy, the very thing -or person - she had bumped into.

 

Strong arms slid around her - just right below her armpits - to steady her and she looked into grey eyes that were at first cold and hard but then amused.

 

"Yearning for a little tete-a-tete with my young cousin, Granger?" Draco asked as he steadied Granger, shifting a little so that he maintained _his_ balance. That caused his left palm to inadvertently brush against the underside of her right breast. It felt soft and heavy. He watched as the colour rose in her cheeks the moment she felt his touch. The surprised look on her face turned into a frown as her head snapped up and she tried to push away from him.

 

"What are you trying to insinuate, Malfoy?"  Draco could hear the righteous indignation in her voice. She shot him a withering glare that would have had a lesser man quaking in his boots.

 

He suppressed a grin. Knowing it would irritate her further, he took his time removing his hands from her body.  Under the pretext of making sure she was steady, he ran his right hand down to her waist until it rested on her hip and his left hand pushed against her breast lightly before he lifted them.

 

Strange, he mused as she shot him a dirty look, he had never thought of Granger as a woman until after she'd walked into his arms and he'd felt her soft curves.  In all his dealings with her, he had always viewed her as asexual. She was all big hair and rules, underscored by a bossy demeanour and a perpetually pinched look. But she definitely had breasts. And underneath those horrible clothes was definitely a woman.  He tried to keep the amusement off his face as she made a fuss of straightening her clothes, the colour still high on her cheeks and her frown firmly in place.

 

"Exactly what I've just said," he responded calmly. "I've told you before, Granger, no interviewing my employees without my presence." He stared at her long enough to make her feel uncomfortable before he asked, "Unless you wanted something _else_ from Teddy?" He raised his brows, allowing Granger to make what she will of that question. It had been his experience that if you gave a man enough rope, he would hang himself.

 

Granger did not disappoint:  She drew in her breath sharply, her face turned redder and her eyes widened almost comically. Her lips pursed as though she meant to answer him but then it thinned out as she compressed them. He wondered what went through her mind the moment he'd let his question flow into the exchange between them; she had almost replied without thought.

 

Hermione willed her blush to go away. Damn the man, she thought angrily as she stared up at him. He had made it sound like she was either trying to trick Teddy into giving up Malfoy's secrets - which she wasn't, not really -or worse, trying to seduce the younger man into her bed. Coupled with her earlier thoughts that Teddy was rather good-looking, Malfoy's jabs hit rather close to home, not that Hermione entertained any sexual thoughts about Teddy.

 

_Not really._

 

Honestly, she thought defensively, what was wrong with thinking Teddy was an extremely attractive male?

 

Malfoy's face was expressionless, though she could tell he was _amused_ by her reaction to his stupid quip about her and Teddy. There was a glint in his eye that looked suspiciously like amusement, not to mention the fact that she suspected very strongly the horrid man had just felt her up.

 

The very worst part of the whole incident was that Hermione had felt an unexpected hot flash of desire race down her nerve endings the moment Malfoy's palm brushed against her breast. And when he - she swore it was on purpose - again pushed against her, she felt her nipples involuntarily pucker up.

 

A fleeting pang of loneliness hit her as she realised that she'd been without someone for so long that any touch, however remotely sexual it may be, had caused such a reaction within her. And it was grossly unfair that it _would_ be Malfoy who roused sexual feelings within her, however unwillingly.

 

It was not to say she detested Malfoy or anything of the like; it was just that it _was_ Malfoy, of all people.

 

 

*

 

Teddy stood just outside his door, eavesdropping on the exchange between Hermione and Draco. He had stepped out to grab a cup of tea with Miss Wiggens and had been about to walk back into his room when he'd heard Draco say, "Yearning for a little tete-a-tete with my young cousin, Granger?"

 

That had stopped him. It was obvious from the tone of his voice - it was only ever that polite when Draco was up to something - that Draco was toying with Miss Granger. He edged a little closer to the gap between the door and the door jamb, the better to hear and perhaps get a glimpse of what was going on.

 

His brows rose at the sight of Miss Granger in Draco's arms and - _Merlin, was Draco feeling her up?_   Teddy almost chuckled at the indignant look on Hermione Granger's face as Draco finally let her go after she hissed angrily at him. She looked spitting mad and Draco looked almost thoughtful. Teddy recognised that look; Draco got that same look whenever something caught his fancy. It was usually something quite unattainable until Draco Malfoy exerted the considerable force of his will to obtain it.

 

He strained to hear what else was being said, and caught bits of Draco's question: "-you wanted something _else_ -?"

 

Hermione's face turned even redder than Teddy thought possible, and her lips pursed, like she wanted to kiss someone. For that one moment, she looked liked how Teddy always thought a woman should look in a moment of passion: skin all flushed, breathing accelerated, mouth ready to be kissed. Then her lips thinned out, and her face resumed its normal pinched look. She was still rather red in the face, but the momentary appeal of her entire demeanour - of that hint of sensuality - had gone.

 

Teddy decided it was time to reclaim his office, at least before Hermione Granger hexed dear Cousin Draco into the next century.


End file.
